


Putting Him In His Place

by Rrrowr



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bottom Blaine, Cock Rings, Dubious Consent, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, top Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-06
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 16:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Rrrowr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blaine passes Kurt over, Kurt finds himself wanting nothing more than to punish him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He's furious. Yes, that's what he is. Kurt is absolutely, completely livid. He'd thought he'd been so _clear_ about things with Blaine. After all, and it wasn't like he was particularly good at hiding his emotions. Sure, he could pull wit out of his ass whenever he wanted, but if he couldn't do it at McKinley, he couldn't do it _anywhere_. Besides, that's different than actually feelings things like affection, love, or hate -- all the emotions he feels so completely that it's hard to shove it all down.

He feels the anger building inside him as he watches Blaine twirl around the GAP like a dog -- or a fox or whatever animal that's as persistent, slinky, confident, sexy, _desperate_ as Blaine is. Kurt can't believe that he's even still going along with this absolute travesty of a seduction or that Blaine is so enamored with a _GAP boy for fuck's sake_ that he'll trample over displays in his effort to get attention. Of course, yes, it's GAP brand and anyone willing to pay thirty dollars for okay-clothes should be willing to pay sixty for better-clothes, but that's beside the point. The point is that Blaine shouldn't be doing this at all -- none of it -- and Kurt shouldn't be feeling like he wants to stretch out his arms and strangle Blaine mid-lyric.

If he thinks that he'll feel better when Blaine is brushed off by the GAP guy, he's wrong. No, even when the employee scans Blaine's socks for purchase and blandly gives him his change, there's this part of him that's still incredulous. The worst of it is that Blaine shrugs off the employee's dismissal, smiling like he does this kind of thing all the time -- like it's common place for him to just waltz around the mall, breaking hearts left, right, and center.

It's outrageous! It's ridiculous!

So Kurt tells him so when they're back at Dalton: "Are you a complete idiot or do you just play one in real life because you think that a mediocre intelligence is somehow attractive in a guy?"

Blaine, to his credit, does not seem to be surprised by the confrontation. "Come on, Kurt," he wheedles. "It was a good idea, wasn't it?"

"News flash, Marlon Brando!" Kurt sneered. "He didn't _care_!"

Which, if Kurt was honest with himself, is the most galling part of it all. He'd trash his entire wardrobe with gasoline and fire to get a guy like Blaine to chase him around a store with song and dance and a 50%-off pair of socks. That there were people out there who could just... just _brush it off like nothing_ made the knot of anger inside him coil into something bright-hot and heavy.

"Well what would you have done?" Blaine asks him.

He says it in that tone he uses. The one that's calm and confident, and Kurt is only just beginning to realize that it means Blaine doesn't see other options. It's always go big, go bold, or go home. It's always a performance and there's always an audience. It's an attitude that Kurt would normally appreciate, but right now, he's got jealousy -- yes, he can admit that much -- burning a hole in his chest. All he wants to do is show Blaine exactly how much he wants him and what he'd be willing to do if only he could have him.

"Something other than public humiliation, I'm sure!" Kurt snarls. "Do you ever think that some people might not like to be harassed like that?"

Then Blaine starts walking away -- which makes Kurt stare at him with an open mouth for a few seconds because _why am I even bothering to speak if you're not going to listen_ \-- but he does so backwards, hands tucked into his pockets. It's daring, the look in his eyes, and it makes the back of Kurt's neck heat up.

"No," Blaine replies plainly while Kurt storms along behind him, determined to continue arguing even when it means following Blaine into his dorm room.

There's this quirky little smile at the corner of his mouth. Like the idea of disliking being serenaded is laughable. (And it is completely laughable, Kurt thinks, but the Gap Guy -- _Jeremiah, or whatever_ \-- hadn't looked all that impressed. Not that Kurt had been looking.) That smile does strange things to Blaine's face -- makes him look a bit wicked and altogether alluring.

"You're an asshole," Kurt says and that makes Blaine's eyes go a little round, a little dark, like he _likes_ that Kurt's using curse words.

"Good thing I have my charm and good looks then," Blaine quips right back, "or else people might not like me at all."

"You're an asshole," Kurt repeats just to see if Blaine's eyes will focus in on his mouth when he does. Blaine does focus in. He also licks over his lower lip as he smiles. It's _stupid_ that Kurt even thinks that's sexy. "That people like you has nothing to do with your charm and good looks."

The lie drops out of Kurt's mouth with a bitter edge to it. A lot of why he likes Blaine has everything to do with his charm and his good looks. Kurt's a little shallow about his appearance, but it's only because he puts effort into looking as good as he does. It's _nice_ to be appreciated by someone like Blaine because it means that Kurt's worth noticing, but like hell if he's going to let Blaine feed his ego with the truth.

Blaine's brows lift up briefly and there's that smile again -- the one that reeks of unrivaled arrogance. "So you do agree." A warm chuckle leaks out of him, syrup-thick, and hits Kurt right in the gut with want. At Kurt's confused expression, Blaine elaborates: "You agree that I have charm and good looks."

Kurt's lip curls. "The swagger is not appealing, Blaine. I've seen my fair share of that at McKinley and believe me, I've had enough of it."

"Yeah?" Blaine says, sounding just a little breathless.

The knot of absolute fury that Kurt's been clutching at buries itself low, low, low, and Kurt pushes himself into Blaine's space, pressing the older boy back until he hits the wall. Blaine rolls with the soft impact, splaying himself across the wall like art or some other kind of decorative piece. Kurt keeps him there with his fingertips, pushing harder than he might otherwise because he can't stop himself from wanting to feel the hard pound of Blaine's heart.

"If you think I'm going to sit back and let you throw yourself at someone who works _retail_ , you've got another thing coming."

At his words, Blaine's eyes dip down to Kurt's mouth, and he sort of lifts himself higher on the wall and tips his head back. He's asking for it with that awful, broad grin of his because he knows what's coming to him and can't wait for it.

Kurt's never really thought about kissing someone when he's angry -- not after Karofsky -- and he likes even less that he's thinking it now. When he kisses Blaine, though, the return pressure is fierce. It's as if, even here, Blaine wants to be daring, wants to make a show of it, wants to present himself as untamable, and Kurt has to fist his hand into Blaine's hair to tilt him like this, to turn him like that, to get him where he needs to be to make this _oh_... Better. Just like that.

Blaine makes a noise then -- not a whine, nothing pleading even. It's like a laugh and an encouragement all wrapped up in a single, huffed note. Then he licks into Kurt's mouth and moans.

Surprised, Kurt jerks back, but Blaine just wraps his hand around the back of Kurt's neck and reels him right back in with a: "Come on, Kurt."

"No, this is --"

Blaine's fingers dig into the muscle of his neck, stroking up the lines of him until he's squeezing at the base of his skull. "You were putting me in my place, weren't you?"

"Blaine --"

Another laugh melts out of Blaine. "You want to," he insists.

The thing is that he _does_ want to. He still has that dense collection of emotion inside of him, trembling with the need to go on the warpath. When Kurt flexes his fingers in Blaine's hair and he tilts back obligingly with a raspy little "yeah," he wants even more.

It's not like what Kurt has ever imagined being with a boy would be like. He'd thought of it being gentle or quiet or something like that. Blaine, though -- he's a tiny guy to start with. He's shorter than Kurt and the difference only gets more pronounced the more Kurt grows. He's compact and the amount of muscle to him is surprising. So when he pushes into Kurt, they sway with the movement until Blaine goes slack again. Then, it's just Kurt's weight that presses them together.

Blaine gives way only when he wants to. When Kurt pushes him to the dorm bed, it only takes the barest of shoves to have him sprawled over the sheets, ditching his uniform jacket and tie to the side with a speed that's actually very flattering. All the more when Blaine's thighs part while Kurt is looking his fill.

Kurt takes a moment to squeeze himself through his pants because Blaine looks so wanton. He's shameless with his desire and uncaring that his uniform pants are tented, his shirt's wrinkled, or his hair's a mess. Kurt has to wonder if he'll ever reach that point or if his rigid sense of dignity will ever let him relax enough to be anything less than picturesque.

"What are you waiting for?" Blaine dares, eyes sliding over Kurt's body brazenly. "Do you need a written invitation?"

His tone really pisses Kurt off, which has more to do with what Kurt does next than he'd like to admit. Instead of sliding between Blaine's legs, Kurt sits on his chest and starts tugging down his zipper. The way Blaine's eyes burn up at him make him smile. He strokes over his cock until it's free from its confines, hard and leaking, and yeah, yeah, that look on Blaine's face is exactly what Kurt's been waiting for.

"Open your mouth," Kurt says. Blaine licks his lips and does so. "Make it good," he continues, carving his fingers through Blaine's hair. "I know how you like to put on a good show."

When Blaine wraps his lips around him, Kurt tenses, determined not to fuck into Blaine's mouth no matter how much he might want to. Blaine doesn't seem to care one way other the other because he just mouths at the head of him happily before lifting his head off the bed to take Kurt between his lips more fully. The sounds he makes are muffled against Kurt's skin, and Blaine digs his fingers into Kurt's thighs, pulling for the leverage he needs to get his nose into Kurt's hair and his bottom lip to Kurt's zipper

Kurt cradles the back of Blaine's head partly to help him, but mostly to keep him where he is. He wants to get his fill of this sight while he can -- the stretch of Blaine's mouth around him, the dip of his lashes, his hair in disarray -- and the feel of it, too. Beyond the flutter of his tongue, Kurt can feel the tension building in Blaine's neck as he lifts to take in Kurt's cock. Under his fingertips, where Kurt's holding him by the scruff, Blaine is trembling, and any minute now, his head will fall back into Kurt's hands because he just can't lift his head any more.

It happens just like Kurt thinks it will. Blaine shakes so hard in his effort that Kurt can feel it between his thighs, where he's straddling the other boy's body. With a last, lingering suck to Kurt's cock, Blaine sinks back to the bed with Kurt's hand underneath. He's taking deep breathes, running his tongue over his teeth and his swollen, pink lips. There are a couple aborted attempts to raise his head, but ultimately, he resigns himself to the fact that he can't do it himself. So he turns his head to nuzzle into Kurt's arm, looking absolutely devastated.

"Kurt," he says -- not quite gasping, but like he's breathless, like he knows what he wants but can't get the air to say it.

Kurt leans over him, lifting onto his knees some, and rubs hard at Blaine's mouth with his thumb. Blaine turns into the touch, chin lifting, eyes going lidded and oh, oh, Kurt realizes that Blaine is _preening_ , basking under the attention, radiating pleasure at having Kurt's gaze on him. When Kurt pushes his thumb into Blaine's mouth, he moans around it and bites down lightly, fitting his teeth against the knuckle and dragging them over Kurt's skin.

"Fuck," Kurt says, which earns him a flick of Blaine's tongue. "You really are gagging for it, you bastard."

It's a little insulting to know that this is the truth. The Blaine that lies beneath him, sucking and teething and tonguing at his fingers like he needs to do it, is the truth. Sure, there's the nice guy that came to his rescue all those weeks ago, but that was because Blaine is just so cock-sure that of course he thought he could talk someone like Karofsky into throwing up rainbows and running through a field of pansies in a post-Pride Parade fit of joy.

Kurt pulls his thumb from Blaine's mouth and smears the saliva over his lips, his chin, his cheek. "Do people actually _like_ you like this?" he asks.

Blaine breathes slow and heavy. His eyes are still lidded, still so dark with want that their usual vibrant amber is reduced to a thin line. "You seem to like it well enough," he says, looking at Kurt's cock, which -- yes -- is still quite hard.

"You, too," Kurt says, though he neither looks nor feels for himself if Blaine is hard.

He doesn't need to. Kurt's been with the Warblers -- been at Dalton -- for long enough that he can recognize the jitters Blaine gets before a performance. It's not jitters like anyone else Kurt's met. It's not the frenzied perfectionist tendencies of Rachel nor his own near panicked need to justify his decisions with another person. No, Blaine is something else. He just breathes -- like yoga, slow and deep and steady until his body goes still, absorbing the adrenaline rush and turning it into the energy he needs to persevere. He doesn't need reassurance because he's got confidence in spades. Give him an audience or applause and it will be like Blaine's flying on stage.

Blaine moves like that now, ribs expanding between Kurt's thighs and collapsing again in that recognizable sinusoidal tidal wave of breath, but he shakes on the inhales -- like it's too much to have even the slightest bit of Kurt's weight on him. Kurt feels the honesty of that breathing in his gut -- that Blaine's thinking of this thing between them, where Kurt makes him suck his cock or where they kiss and claw and snarl at each other, is a performance.

So, of course he enjoys it.

Kurt can hear it as Blaine goes, "Yeah," in that ... that fucking voice he'd used in the Gap today, all pitched low and a little growl. "Yeah, I like it."

The easy admission pisses him off. Of course Blaine knows that he likes to suck cock, that he likes it enough to play pleading or to go with the flow to get what he wants. Of course he would while Kurt still struggles with knowing his own desires because not everyone can just transfer to Dalton and add _swagger_ to the required uniform.

"Are you like this with everyone then?" Kurt demands. "Or am I some special charity case?"

He climbs off of Blaine and really, really likes the way Blaine twists as if to reach for him. He likes it even better that Blaine undoes his fly and pushes down his pants and just watches, opened mouth and kind of just... breathing in that focused manner, while Kurt does the same.

"Wasn't it enough that you had me -- had me wanting you _all the damn time_?" Kurt asks as he gets a knee up on the bed and starts shoving Blaine up higher on the bed. "Was it really necessary to go to someone else --"

Ah, and that's the bitter pill the swallow there -- that Blaine had gone to someone else first, like Kurt was something easy to leave behind when, fuck, he knew he wasn't. It hurts in such a familiar way that it burns through Kurt like heartache. So, as he's pushing Blaine around, he turns Blaine over because he just wants to touch him and feel him and doesn't want that marred by seeing his face right now. He can't bear to see that fucking smile of his that knows how much Kurt has been needily clawing through life for exactly this and -

Blaine shouts, briefly and just loud enough to jolt Kurt from his thoughts. His breathing shot all to shit in little hitches, and Kurt realizes that he's got two fingers inside Blaine, barely wet with spit, and that's... that's ...

"Where's your lube?" Kurt snaps, angry at everything now -- at Blaine, at the Gap guy, at himself -- and Blaine groans when Kurt pulls his fingers out of him, like it's some kind of loss. "Don't make me ask again!"

"The drawer," answers Blaine, pointing Kurt toward his desk. "In the back."

Kurt tries to be gentle. He _tries_ so hard not to be rough and his effort has nothing to do with how he's inexperienced and scared. It has everything to do with his sensibilities and how he wants sex to be something that's soft and gentle and loving. It's just that, as it turns out, between him and Blaine, Kurt is the one who's the gentleman, but when Kurt comes back with the lube -- and this other little interesting thing he'd found with it -- Blaine is waiting for him. It's just that, when Kurt presses lubed fingers into him, Blaine arches like he needs it, groans out this little "Yeah, yeah, yeah," like Kurt's just playing into his hands.

He can't stand it -- just. Being _used_ for this.

It makes him rougher. It makes him move along too fast, not bothering to wait for Blaine to adjust for girth so much as getting him as slick as he can, shoving his fingers in deep and fast until Blaine's lifted his hips higher, dropped his head to the pillows, and is forced to just take it however Kurt gives it to him. Even then, though, Blaine is smiling as he presses his face into the pillow.

He doesn't know how he's still wanting this as angry as he is, as hard as it is to deal with the unadulterated envy that's coursing through him. When he jerks into Blaine's body with a few stabbing thrusts, though, he's so, so... Fuck, he's just so glad to be where he is. Not just with Blaine around him, but also because he's layered over Blaine with his face at the back of Blaine's neck and his body braced on his elbows to either side of Blaine's shoulders and their knees aligned.

It's heat and intimacy and he's just -- He's never been so close to someone before and Blaine, whether he realizes it or not, is the one person in this entire world that's seen Kurt for exactly who he is. So he takes a moment to treasure their proximity and presses his face between Blaine's shoulder blades, rubbing his eyes into the starched white cotton and just breathing in the smell of him before the pain of it all bubbles up again.

It hurts so much. He was wrong before about it being familiar. It's worse by so many degrees -- multitudes worse, exponentially, _infinitely worse_ than Sam or Finn -- to know that he'd been honest with Blaine right from the beginning with everything only to find out in the worst way that Blaine had never even thought to look his way. Was he really so stupid? Had he really been that close to saying those words again --?

Kurt grits his teeth and slides back until he's on his knees again, cold but for where he's buried inside Blaine still. He reaches for the extra thing he'd found in the drawer with the lube and tosses it near Blaine's head. It's a cock-ring -- simple, metallic and a little heavy -- and Blaine's hand wraps around it before Kurt's even said a word.

Blaine twists around to look at him, and Kurt scoots forward on his knees just a smidge. Blaine's hips hitch up that much more, with his knees slightly lifted off the mattress so that it's like the only point of stability he has is on Kurt's cock, and Blaine's face buries itself in the pillows. It's relief that floods through Kurt then -- glad that Blaine hadn't been able to turn fast enough to look back at him properly. He settles a hand against the back of Blaine's neck, above the fold of his collar, and squeezes up around the back of his skull, rubbing or massaging or ... or petting him. Feeling the pulse of his throat under his thumb and fitting the shell of Blaine's ear in the L of his hand. He doesn't know -- taking pleasure, he guesses, from this opportunity as best he can.

He says: "Put it on."

Blaine, luckily, doesn't play stupid along with cock-hungry, and Kurt gets to feel him shift his legs wider, gets to feel Blaine shudder just that tiny bit as he slides the cock ring on. Then, one of Blaine's hands comes back up to fist in the sheets while the opposite shoulder drops and then, there are fingers pressing up around Kurt's cock. Kurt looks down and -- there are Blaine's fingers scissoring around where they're joined, smearing through the lubricant that's leaked out and just, just touching and evaluating and rubbing at the stretched muscle, and then back to touch Kurt, to cup him and squeeze him gently for a moment before returning to Blaine's hole.

Blaine's voice, though, sounds absolutely wrecked -- wet and thick and struggling to be heard. "Christ," he's saying as he pushes himself onto one elbow and keeps his head dropped. He shoves himself back onto Kurt's cock and curses, " _Fuck_ , Kurt. Could you just--"

Kurt doesn't want to ask what Blaine means to end that sentence with. He doesn't ask because he doesn't want to know or he already knows and he doesn't need to hear it again. This isn't about what Blaine wants anymore. It's about Kurt and what he wants, what he's wanted all this time. He wants to just stay where he is, if he's honest with himself. He wants to feel Blaine around him, unbearably warm and completely welcoming. He wants the sounds that he can wrench from Blaine's throat. He wants to know that he can evoke some kind of reaction out of Blaine that's more than just friendly.

When he starts to move, though, it's almost unexpected how badly he wants to slam right back in. Not just because it feels good -- though it does feel like, so much _more_ than he'd imagined -- but also because he wants it to hurt Blaine, not much but just some, enough to give him a taste of what's eating Kurt up inside. So he does that. He hooks his fingers around the cut of Blaine's hips and reels him in while he pushes in. He does it over and over again, hearing the slap of their bodies meeting and feeling the sting across his thighs. He squeezes his hands around Blaine's waist to feel the bulk of him and listens to Blaine's breath catch in his throat.

Kurt fists one hand at the back of Blaine's shirt and pulls hard at it. It's almost like reining in a horse, or like he imagines it is, because Blaine lifts up on his elbows properly instead of laying on his arms and taking it. Now the snap of Kurt's hips drives a shock through Blaine's body, enough that he can feel the jerk through the cloth. Blaine just stretches himself out, bracing himself against the headboard with one hand and leaning into Kurt like this is exactly what he wants, like Kurt is giving it to him precisely as he would have wanted had Kurt asked.

It'd be so much easier to tell, Kurt thinks, if he could see all of him.

"Blaine," he says as he slows down his thrusts and lets go of Blaine's shirt. He hates the way his voice sounds -- high and breathless and not nearly as angry as before. "Take off your shirt."

At the order -- because it is and even if Blaine didn't follow it, Kurt would do it for him -- Blaine sags for a moment like the idea of moving actively is too much, but when Kurt sits back, he goes with him easily, pushes himself back even so that they don't slide apart. With Kurt on his haunches though, Blaine just wiggles back a little further until he's practically in Kurt's lap and oh, Kurt just slides that much deeper in him.

Blaine takes a moment to adjust, shifting on Kurt's lap and grinding down and spreading his legs so that Kurt can fit between them more comfortably. Kurt lets himself touch while he waits, lets his hands rove over Blaine's thighs and his hips and through the hair over his stomach. Blaine's fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt and he just jerks the the first half dozen open and pulls his shirt over his head and then his undershirt after that. It's rushed and the clothes scratch at Kurt's face as they're whipped off, but once they're gone, Blaine just sighs and moves his hips a little.

The movement doesn't bother Kurt -- feels good, so he just rolls with it while he touches Blaine, feeling the tremble of the muscle -- the minute shudder of his stomach when Kurt palms it. And then, just for the hell of it, Kurt spreads out under Blaine. It's a bit of a shuffle, but Blaine is alarmingly cooperative with the whole process, raising himself so that Kurt can move and settling down again once Kurt's in place. It's so easy -- so simple, while Blaine's adjusting to the new angle -- to bend his knees, brace himself, and thrust up into Blaine's body.

Kurt's a little surprised to hear a short whine snap out of Blaine's throat, so he does it again, and again and again. Blaine falls back against Kurt's chest and fuck he's heavy, but it feels good, like a weight all across Kurt's body. Even if it means that he can't do anything but grind up into Blaine, he can nose in behind Blaine's ear and breathe his musk and his sweat and taste, if he so chose, the desperation in his skin.

Maybe it's because he thinks of doing it that he finds his teeth chewing a line of marks up the side of Blaine's neck. It's not like there's any complaint because Blaine has tilted his head to the side and dropped his shoulder and given Kurt all the open invitation he could need to leave marks. Maybe it's something he should be concerned about, but he won't be -- not until later. For now, he wants to leave evidence behind that he's done this to Blaine, that he's reduced this arrogant, manipulative, oblivious man to someone who will whine for him, who will grind down on his cock, who will groan and beg for it.

It feels good to do it and so he does it while he pets over Blaine's cock with a loose fist and that just tears at Blaine. Kurt can feel how it rips through him. How it makes his back arch and his hips stutter and the hard grip of his hand covering Kurt's as he whimpers: "Kurt, wait-"

A sharp grin works its way onto Kurt's face at the frank desire that's thickened Blaine's voice into something rough. "Don't come," Kurt tells him and cruelly, he gives Blaine's cock a squeeze. "If you come, I'll never fuck you again."

The threat makes Blaine twitch within the circle of Kurt's fingers. "I can't --" he gasps. He pulls at Kurt's hand, trying to get him to stop touching. "Kurt, _please_."

"No," Kurt says firmly as he rolls them over onto Blaine's stomach. That he can even say that to the guy he likes makes his head feel fuzzy. "You said I wanted to put you in your place. That's what I'm doing."

Kurt presses Blaine down into the bed with his weight, but he cranes to get a look at how doing that makes Blaine's face scrunch up -- eyes screwed shut, brows creasing, nose wrinkling and mouth dropping open to unleash a cracking, "Fu- _uck_ ," into the folds of the sheets.

"You like this don't you," Kurt murmurs as he shoves Blaine's legs apart, bending one at the hip so that he can straddle the other. Even though his words don't sound like a question coming from his mouth, Blaine nods frantically and actually bites into the sheets when Kurt thrusts into him a little hard. "You like what I'm doing to you. Tell me how much."

It's like a switch had been flipped. Blaine chokes on air for a second, maybe two, and out pours everything -- he loves it, fuck, loves all of it, loves how Kurt feels inside him, loves how he feels stretched and full, loves Kurt's weight and his hands and his skin and his cock, and fuck it just keeps going on and on, sometimes cycling back through like Blaine can't help but linger on some of them. Kurt fucks him all the way through it, enjoying the sound of Blaine's voice, listening to him ramble and murmur, hearing all the catches in the words when he sinks into him. Before long though, the commentary dissolves into nonsense -- curses and sobs and over and over, _this_ in a gasp that's almost reverent:

"I love you, I love you, I love you --"

The words sink right into Kurt and tighten around his lungs, around his heart and he can't breathe for it except to twist Blaine under him uncomfortably and kiss him just to make him shut up. One arm wraps around Kurt's waist, and Blaine opens up for him, devouring Kurt's attention like it's a final meal, and he's shuddering, trembling like a leaf, and moaning into Kurt's mouth as he comes.

*

Afterward, Kurt take the care to separate from Blaine slowly, but still, the older boy shivers. He's tired; they both are, but Kurt pulls apart Blaine's cheeks to see what damage he's done -- surprisingly little, though it looks sore as hell and actually, pretty obscene with how his come is leaking out. Blaine's whole body looks a little beaten when Kurt takes the time to look at it -- from the rosy tint of his thighs and ass, to the bruises around his hips, to the marks along his neck and the scratches across his stomach and swollen lips...

Indecent is how Blaine looks, but happy for it, if the flirty little smile around his mouth is any indication.

He guesses that's okay -- that Blaine is happy -- but... But he's not even angry any more and he wants to be. Now, though, it's been burned all the way through and all he's left with is the ash, the gross, miserable grief of yet another doomed-from-the-start romance. It's downright depressing is what it is -- an emotion that can only be properly portrayed by sitting morosely on the edge of the bed while the adrenaline of the moment seeps away.

Then Blaine touches him. Gingerly, cautiously tracing the line of Kurt's spine with his fingers and Kurt doesn't snap at him. He can't muster the energy to say that he can't bear for Blaine to touch him right now because the fact of the matter is that it feels good, comforting even -- just real, real nice to feel his hand.

"I'm sorry," Blaine blurts out and Kurt goes still. "It was stupid of me and I --" He huffs and his hand drops to the bedspread, scratching at it. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry."

"Did you mean it?" Kurt asks, swallowing heavily. "When we were having sex, you said that you love me. I feel like you should tell me whether or not that was just something you say in the heat of the moment because otherwise, I'll just get my hopes up again. And you _really_ don't want to know what I'm like when I'm going after guys I can't have--"

"Hey," Blaine interrupts, sounding closer than before.

Kurt turns to find him sitting up. Then Blaine crooks his fingers along Kurt's jaw and turns him a little further, lets his head dip to the side and then slants their mouths together. It's a simple kiss -- chaste and just a slight pressure and... still kind of hurts actually with all the ravaging they've done -- but it's a kiss nonetheless.

"Would you mind at all," Blaine asks, "if I meant it?"

"Yeah, actually," Kurt says, though his heart is screaming the opposite. "I would mind. It'd make you fickle, considering the timing."

Blaine ducks his head and pulls Kurt into him. It's sort of awkward with Blaine holding himself so gingerly and Kurt still wanting to sulk, but Blaine holds on gently, rubbing up Kurt's back and resting his head on Kurt's shoulder. It takes a while for Kurt to actually relax into it. He's not used to this at all. Even as accustomed as he's become to Blaine's frequent invasions into his personal space, they've never hugged like this until now.

Sighing, Blaine squeezes Kurt with his arms a final time and backs off enough to lean their foreheads together. Blaine looks really tired with his eyes closed, like he's been stripped of his energy, and he says, "I don't deserve you." Kurt's about to laugh and agree when Blaine goes on, "But would it be okay if I tried to earn you?"

Kurt leans back and stares at Blaine -- really looks at him this time. "I don't know how to believe you."

"I know," Blaine agrees. "It's just --" The frustration is clear on Blaine's face as he searches for words. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I'm so sorry and I want to make amends and I want to deserve you, but--" He falters again and his hands fist at Kurt's waist. When he looks at Kurt, his eyes are full of earnest pleading for Kurt to understand. " _I don't know how_."

Kurt knows at once what he wants out of Blaine. Instead of voicing it immediately, he puts his fingers under Blaine's jaw and rubs at his chin. He waits until Blaine is leaning into him, expecting to be kissed, before he says, "I want you to woo me. I want it to be different though."

Blaine's bright, bright eyes meet his. He asks, "Different how?"

"I don't want the Warblers in on it, for one," Kurt says. "If you're going to come after me, do it on your own. Nothing ostentatious or overly public. Can you do that?"

Smiling softly, Blaine nods. "Yeah," he says. "I can do that."


	2. These Steps are Like Raindrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, any ideas on how Blaine would woo Kurt?

Blaine is manipulative, even if he doesn't realize it, and because of that, Kurt has to question just how genuine Blaine’s gestures of love really are. Blaine might start with buying gifts. They’re thoughtful. No question about that. A book that Kurt mentioned liking or tickets to a show. Kurt likes them, of course, but they’re material things. Blaine thinks that maybe that’s why Kurt liked him before — because he’d get Kurt coffee or take him out to dinner or get him tickets to RENT. As much as Kurt does like them, those aren’t the reasons Kurt fell in love in the first place.

Kurt is a little disappointed that Blaine doesn’t cotton on to the truth quickly enough, and he avoids Blaine because of that disappointment. It pisses Blaine off some, but also scares him. It’s not because he feels like Kurt’s turning him down — well it is, but not entirely. It’s because Kurt turning him down means he’s losing something and that’s different. He’d had Kurt once, he’s had him all this time, and he doesn’t want Kurt gone.

So he decides to catch Kurt by surprise. He drops by Kurt's dorm in the evening, wondering if they can talk, and ends up standing in the middle of the room with his hands fidgeting at his sides while Kurt stares him down. “I just wanted to ask... You’d tell me, right? If I was doing something wrong?”

“Of course,” Kurt responds, but it’s a lie. Why wouldn’t it be a lie when falling for Blaine implies so much risk?

Blaine scrubs his hands over his thighs. “Yeah, so what is it, then?”

“What’s what, Blaine?” Kurt asks. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“You know what I mean,” Blaine replies, a little irritated. “I told you already that I don’t... I know know what I’m doing, okay? I want to give you what you want and you said to give you a proper courtship. So I am. I’m trying, but --“

Kurt goes cold, misunderstanding. “If you want to give up, I won’t blame you. I’m a very difficult person.”

“Shut up. That’s not what I’m saying,” Blaine snaps. “I’m saying that I can’t figure out what you want from me on my own. I’m not making a scene of it, okay? You said you didn’t want an audience. I’m not asking the Warblers for help cause you said you wanted me to do it on my own. And so I’ve gotten you things that I know you like, but either you don’t like them anymore or you won’t let yourself like them. Either way, I can’t know for sure because you’re not talking to me anymore and it’s frustrating, okay, because I’m trying really hard to love you, but you’re not letting me!”

It’s a fight. It’s not a big fight because Kurt doesn’t really fight back at all. He just sort of sags and lets Blaine shout, but as soon as Blaine realizes what Kurt’s doing, all the anger drops out of him because he can’t do it, can’t take it out on Kurt.

Then Kurt says, “You can give up if you want. I won’t mind. It won’t be the first time I’ve wanted what I can’t have.”

Though he says that he won’t mind, but it’s so obvious that he will. Because the way he looks at Blaine, it’s like he’d do anything, and frankly, Blaine will do anything in return to keep him looking like that.

Just not yet.

So Blaine leaves without shouting and he sleeps on his thoughts and decides to start over the next day. He’s still angry a little, but when he sees Kurt in the cafeteria, he sits across from him for breakfast. They eat and they don’t talk and they go to class and then Blaine does it again at lunch and then again at dinner. He sits next to Kurt at practice and he looks at Kurt lingeringly before heading to his dorm.

There are no more gifts and Blaine kinda stops talking around Kurt. It’s not an angry silence so much as an effort to just feel what it’s like to be around Kurt without trying to give him advice or to flaunt himself. It’s kind of nice, actually, but it makes Kurt nervous.

“What are you doing?” Kurt asks at breakfast after a couple of silent, no-gift days. “Seriously, what is this?”

“Um, breakfast,” Blaine answers, gesturing with a spoon at his oatmeal. “Why?”

“You _did_ give up,” Kurt says — awed and shocked because he didn’t see this coming and because the realization pains him.

“Hey, _no_ ,” Blaine says. “I didn’t. I just have to think through things.”

“Okay,” Kurt says but he does so cautiously, like he’s not sure what Blaine thinking things through means.

Does it mean second guessing himself? Does it mean changing his mind altogether? Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. Blaine isn’t sure one way or the other, himself, but he knows that this thing that he’s forcing them to do — where neither of them talk, but they hang out and feel things for each other — is good, like nice good, like comfortable good, but it’s not the best it could be. It could be more. He misses being able to touch Kurt without Kurt getting all suspicious about it and he misses laughing and joking and being playful. He misses, too, that Kurt touched him once. Kurt’s not a very physical person, never has been, but there was that one time when Kurt had touched him and kissed him and did it all so firmly and certainly that he’d felt sore for days. Blaine thinks about that time and wishes that Kurt would just say something — anything — soon.

Then one day, Kurt laughs a little at something another student says and Blaine can feel the shake of it through his arm because somehow they’re leaning together. The next day, both of them turn together when someone calls Blaine’s name. The day after that, Blaine meets Kurt on the stairs on the way to lunch and they walk together, through the lunch line and to the table, and Blaine waits for Kurt to finish eating before walking him to class. Then it’s school and it’s tests and it’s weeks passing. It’s Blaine finding Kurt fast asleep on the couch in the commons, and instead of shaking him awake or nudging him or something, Blaine sits on the edge of the couch and pulls one of Kurt’s hands into his lap and just... just holds it, thinking about how this hand absolutely wrecked him a while back. He thinks about it a lot actually, while he skims his nails over the pads of Kurt’s fingers and feels the heat of his palm, and when he looks up, Kurt is awake and watching him.

“Hey,” he says and it feels odd, talking again. Like somehow he shouldn’t be. “So I like you. A lot. I wasn’t sure I would, but I do. You drive me crazy in ways I didn’t think I could be, you don’t like to talk about your feelings until it’s too much and you don’t like not knowing what’s going on. You hate feeling like you have to clarify something that’s obvious to you but not to everyone else and, Jesus, sometimes I just can’t _stand_ you.”

Blaine takes a breath and clutches at Kurt’s hand. “But I miss you when you’re not there and that doesn’t go away,” he finishes and he feels tired, wrung out. “Is that enough?”


End file.
